


One Golden Afternoon

by hbomba



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fridget, Lesbian, Lesbian Sex, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04, Smut, post-3x12, post-episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 09:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbomba/pseuds/hbomba
Summary: Another take on the post-3x12 Fridget action from Bridget’s POV.





	One Golden Afternoon

* * *

 

The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color -- oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples...― Anna Godbersen

* * *

 

Today was the day. Franky would be out in t-minus three hours and Bridget was over the moon. She was up early tidying up her spacious bungalow, showering and fretting over her hippest outfit. She wanted to dress for Franky, not for work, something she knew the younger woman would appreciate. She checked the clock, anxious to leave.

Leaving early, she sat in the parking lot adjacent to the prison for over an hour before she saw Franky tentatively exiting the prison on foot. With each step she took away from the prison, the bolder she became, and when Bridget honked the horn on the sweet little sports car she’d rented just for the occasion, Franky’s smile was brighter than the midday sun.

Her heart thumped in her chest as Franky approached and when their lips met for the first time, her joy was palpable. Franky’s lips were soft, and her kiss was as firm as the hands that smacked her on the rear. Bridget threw her head back and laughed as they swayed together in the parking lot. She smelled of prison-issue soap and coconut shampoo and in that moment, the combination was more intoxicating than a wine’s bouquet. 

“Heya,” Franky smiled at her.

“Hi,” Bridget grinned back. “You wanna get out of here?”

Franky bit her lip. “More than ever.”

“Get in.” Franky climbed into the passenger seat of the shiny, black sports car as Bridget turned the engine over. Silent as they sped away from the Wentworth, Franky watched it disappear into the distance. “You right?”

“Just waiting for the sirens and lights…” Franky smiled at her.

Bridget nodded. “Feels a bit surreal, yeah?”

Franky smiled again as her hand came to rest on Bridget’s jean-clad thigh. “You could say that.” 

“Do you have any accommodation?” She tried to ask nonchalantly.

“Nah. The Ritz was all booked up.” A cheeky grin.

“Would you like to stay with me?” Bridget raised her eyebrows, sparing a glance in her direction.

Franky nearly did a double-take. “You sure?” 

“Mm,” she hummed.

“Hard to turn that down.” Franky grinned.

As they approached Bridget’s neighborhood, the tension in the car grew exponentially. Franky, who had sunk down in the bucket seat during the drive, perked up as they rounded the corner to her home. Pulling into the drive, Franky sat up completely.

“So this is how the other half lives.” 

Bridget could feel the insecurity in Franky’s voice so she smiled her softest smile and tried to reassure Franky that she was welcome in her home. “I’ve got news for you,” Bridget said with a hint of mirth in her voice. “You’re one of us now.”

She popped the car door open and climbed out, Franky eagerly jumping out to follow Bridget up the path to her front door. Emboldened by the secluded porch, Franky moved in close to Bridget, wrapping her up from behind as she put a key in the lock and opened the door.

They stood there, locked together for a moment, not ready to move. Bridget tipped her head back and hummed at her closeness. “We should go inside.”

“Afraid what the neighbors might think?” Franky prodded.

“No,” she replied softly, slowly turning in Franky’s arms to face her.

It felt strange to be so close to her at last, not because it didn’t feel natural or right, but because it felt so unlikely. So unbelievable. So wildly out of character for Bridget. She wasn’t someone who brought home ex-prisoners to stay upon their release. Under normal circumstances, she nurtured and set them free, but not Franky. She had wriggled her way into Bridget’s heart and mind and there was no turning back now.

Slipping from Franky’s embrace, she shouldered the front door open and walked inside ahead of Franky, making sure to give her hips an extra little swing as she went. The enticement worked because Franky stepped inside and quickly shut the door, trailing after her.

Shrugging out of her jacket, Bridget heard Franky inhale deeply as she approached. When Bridget paused between the lounge and kitchen, Franky stood beside her, eyes roaming the rooms in awe.

“Where can I put my stuff?” Franky asked, lifting a toothbrush from the pocket of her plaid flannel shirt. 

Bridget chuckled. “The washroom is down the hall, on the right.”

“Righto.” The brunette grinned, meandering down the hallway with her toothbrush in hand. 

Bridget sucked in a deep breath and smiled at the ceiling. “Tea?” She called after Franky.

“Love some,” she said, returning from the hall.

Bridget filled the kettle and turned it on. Taking a pair of mugs from the cupboard, she dropped a tea bag into the bottom of each delicately. She could feel Franky watching her every move and she was quickly becoming distracted by her own arousal. They were at an awkward place. Bridget was teetering on a decision that could end her career, but it didn’t faze her. She had spent her life’s work helping others and while she’d never change that, it was time for her to recoup some good in her life, too. And Franky Doyle was her light.

Leaning against the counter, Bridget crossed her arms casually across her chest and waited for the water to boil. Franky watched her from the other side of the island before moving to stand beside her. 

“Are you sure you want me here, Gidget?” Franky braced her arm on the countertop and leaned toward Bridget.

“Franky, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

She grinned. “So tell me why you’ve got the kettle on for a cuppa when I’m fairly certain tea’s the last thing on your mind right now.” Franky’s voice was low and challenged her with its tone.

Just then, the kettle began to whistle. Bridget didn’t move at first allowing it to screech unabated for a long moment before switching the stove off. When she turned, Franky was behind her. 

“I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Bridget said.

Franky leaned in close. “And what idea is that?” She grinned.

Bridget looked away. “That I just want to sleep with you.”

“I certainly didn’t think we’d be doing much  _ sleeping _ .”

“I’m serious, Franky.”

“So am I.” Her tongue darted out and wet her bottom lip. “Look, Gidget, I get it. I’m not looking for promises. Let’s just see where this goes…” 

Franky reached for her, hand cupping her cheek, instantly transporting Bridget to that moment in the library when Franky’s thumb grazed her lip and her need truly began. Except this time there were no other prisoners to overhear or Vera Bennett to interrupt them, and the flood of heat between her legs was unmistakable. 

Bridget leaned into her palm, closing her eyes. When she opened them again she found Franky studying her features with her patented bemused smirk.  “Still want that cuppa?”

“Nuh,” she sighed, feeling more flushed by the moment. 

Franky leaned in to kiss her and wasted no time pulling her top up and over Bridget’s head. The psychologist pulled Franky down the hall by her lapels as they kissed, Franky’s hands roaming her body. There was a quiet patience in Franky’s touch and Bridget couldn’t help but to smile into their kiss. It had been a long time since she had let anyone touch her which made their encounter that much more special.

She had expected Franky to be rougher, less…  _ composed, _ but she wasn’t surprised by the tender way Franky touched her. Franky had shown her respect since she set boundaries in their early sessions and now, as they moved beyond that relationship she was gentle and considerate.

When they stumbled through the bedroom doorway together, Bridget worked her hands under the collars of Franky’s jacket and shirt, pushing them from her shoulders. Her kiss was sublime, her hands deftly maneuvering the contours of Bridget’s form, and if there were ever any doubt about her decision to pursue Franky (or continue to let Franky pursue her), it was erased by the combination of the two.

The afternoon sun lit up the bedroom windows, despite the blinds being drawn and soon it was reflecting off her skin. Franky pushed her back onto the bed and stripped away her skin-tight jeans. Sitting up, Bridget’s hands found Franky’s waist and pulled her undershirt up and over her head before unbuttoning Franky’s jeans. Pushing the jeans over her hips, Franky jumped out of the denim in a hurry. 

Leaning up on her elbows, Bridget gazed up at her, tall, tanned and tattooed, hot pink bra and panties her only cover as she stood before her, obviously also taking stock of Bridget in her lingerie. She couldn’t believe they had gotten to this place so quickly. Then again, they didn’t get off in a ditch along the way home so she would claim it as a victory. 

Franky grinned down at her. Life was sweet, the way it worked out sometimes. And today, in the glow of the afternoon, Franky reached behind her, unfastened her bra as she stepped out of her pink panties. She was shameless and Bridget was completely taken with her nakedness. It was better than she’d ever let herself imagine. As Franky’s hands landed at her waist to yank her panties over her hips and down her legs, Bridget slipped out of her bra. 

Dimples creased her cheeks, her tongue darting out, as Franky climbed over her.  She moved like a lioness, stealthy and proud, her green eyes sparkling with intent. The strange thing about being looked at like lunch was the lack of fear involved--at least in the case of the partially tamed lioness that stalked toward her, Bridget felt safe, even hungrier herself. She didn’t wait for the siege, instead meeting her halfway like an equal. 

The women’s kisses were hot and wet and full of ebullience. What was forbidden for so long was still forbidden, but more easily sidestepped with freedom, and while they both knew what was at stake, the pull was far too great to deny.

Breathing heavily between kisses, Franky pulled back, and smiled down at her. “I can’t believe it.”

Bridget laughed, joy bubbling up in her chest as she kissed Franky again. There was no awkwardness or shyness, in fact, moving beyond their previous relationship was the most natural transition into a sexual relationship Bridget had experienced, save for her best friend in university and  _ that  _ was weird. 

Rolling around naked with Franky seemed so natural that Bridget had lost all reason to question what they were doing. And then Franky made her move down Bridget’s body and there were no more thoughts. As her mouth kissed a trail across her breast and belly, Bridget caught herself holding her breath, exhaling raggedly when Franky came to rest between her legs.

The anticipation made her ache, and when Franky touched her at last, she trembled. There were some things she was never ready for and a new lover going down on her, was at the top of the list. It was always overwhelming and wonderful, but today in the room so bright with the setting sun against the bedroom blinds, it was all that and more. 

Franky was magnificent, wasting little time bringing her to orgasm and crawling up her body again before Bridget had even caught her breath. Franky barely had a moment to bask in her triumph before Bridget flipped her onto her back, in search of her own glory. Franky bit her bottom lip, pressing her head back into the down pillow as Bridget nudged her legs apart with her knee.

Kissing the scar above the tattoo on her breast, Bridget was once again reminded of their differences. Franky’s hand came to rest in her hair and those differences seemed to matter less. Their eyes met and Bridget pressed herself against Franky’s core. Hands at Franky’s waist, she began to move against her and Franky’s smokey eyes closed, an apparent expression of rapture on her face. 

Moving her hips slowly, Bridget watched as her face contorted in pleasure. “Fuck,” Franky said, gripping Bridget’s hips as she moved against her. 

It was Bridget’s turn to feel like a lioness, sizing up Franky from above even as her hips moved against her, feeling their joining as an amazing amalgamation of sacred spaces. She worked her hips faster, feeling each contact in her own core, a moan escaping her lips. Hands in the pillows behind Franky’s head, Bridget kissed her again--a hungry kiss, jam-packed with meaning and intention. Before that morning, she was worried that their encounter would come to pass as a tawdry one-night stand, still, she found herself worrying that it wouldn’t turn into the scorching affair she’d not-so-secretly yearned for. 

But right then, poised over top of Franky, moving her hips to oblivion’s tempo she knew it would be more than one-night that they’d share. She knew by the way Franky clung to her--it showed trust--and how she buried her face in Bridget’s neck--expressing an immutable closeness--and by the way she used Bridget’s name during sex--it personalized what could sometimes be an impersonal act. But most of all, Bridget  _ knew  _ her. She was able to look beyond her criminal past and see a bright future and that was something that Franky valued deeply.

So when Franky came, she buried her face in Bridget’s neck and held onto her tightly, moaning the blonde’s name, Bridget shuddered again right along with her. Bridget rolled over, but remained tangled with Franky, who would follow as she settled on her side. Catching her breath, Franky looked at her with smokey eyes and dimples aglow in the afternoon sunlight. 

Reaching a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead, Franky smiled at her. “You really were holding out on me.”

Bridget chuckled, leaning into Franky’s palm and closing her eyes. “I may still have a few surprises left.”

“I’ve got time.” Franky grinned.

The evening was spent much like the afternoon, dinner was a cheese tray with artisanal flatbreads and fruit eaten in the nude and on Bridget’s bed. And when they’d exhausted each other, sleep came swiftly.

Bridget woke before her alarm, and normally she would have popped out of bed to start her day, but today she watched Franky snooze beside her. Her face was serious, her jaw set, and her tough beauty was something Bridget admired deeply. When her eyes fluttered open in the morning sunlight, Bridget’s eyes met hers.

“Good morning.” The blonde’s smile was genuine and warm.

“Heya.” Franky grinned and stretched. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

Franky nodded, her jaw shifting to the side as she processed what the gesture meant. “Thanks.”

“I should get ready.” She smiled at the brunette and rolled away.

“Gidget?” Franky called after her.

Bridget paused in the doorway and turned back. “Yeah?”

“Last night really happened, yeah?”

She smiled. “Yeah, it did.” 

“Good.” Franky grinned, putting her arms behind her head. Bridget smiled back at her before turning the corner to the bathroom. A few moments later she was starting the shower. The water washed over her, and Bridget was lost in thought. As her hands ramped over her body, the shower stall opened at Franky stepped inside. “Room for one more?”

Bridget jumped at the sound of her voice. “Sure.”

Franky stepped closer, the hot spray of water reaching her body as she backed Bridget under the showerhead. “What can I say, I’m not used to showering alone.”

Bridget hummed as Franky’s lips touched her throat. “Frankyyy…” Her hand came to rest on the back of Franky’s neck. “I’m going to be late.” She knew she should stop her before it was too late, but she wanted Franky and she really didn’t care much about perfect attendance in that moment. So when Franky knelt in front of her and threw Bridget’s leg over her shoulder, she looked skyward. “Shit, Franky.”

“Should I stop?” She kissed her way across Bridget’s thigh.

“No,” she breathed. Leaning against the tiles, Bridget held Franky to her. The hot water poured over her as the heat between her legs intensified. She could tell that Franky enjoyed herself thoroughly and that made Bridget’s arousal soar. She was grateful that Franky understood the time crunch she was under and brought her to climax quickly. When Bridget opened her eyes, Franky was standing in the water’s stream.

“Is that how all your showers went in prison?” 

“Not all of them.” Franky grinned.

Bridget exhaled, running her hands through her wet hair. “Come here.”

“Nah. Ya can’t be late. You can owe me one.”

“Who says romance is dead.” Bridget smirked.

Another enigmatic smile. “Pass the soap?” 

She showered with Franky quite innocently after she caught her breath and she had to admit it was unusual. Franky had lived a very different life from Bridget and even though she had ten years on Franky, her life experience paled in comparison. She was successful professionally and she had certainly seen her fair share of horrors in the criminal system but Franky had lived them.

Today, as Franky lay on her bed in her terry cloth robe, a free woman, against all odds and her principles, Bridget was without regret. She stood in front of her closet in her underwear, sparing a glance at Franky who was pouring over the want ads until Bridget turned around again and her eyes covertly fell to her toned legs and rear.

“Make yourself at home,” Bridget said stepping into a skirt and zipping the side. She checked the clock on the side table beside the bed. “Shit.”

A wicked grin. “Late?”

Bridget smiled, slipping into a blouse and buttoning it quickly. She stepped into a pair of heels and stopped by the bed. “I’ll call you later.”

Franky looked up at her with puppy dog eyes and a smile that had the same effect. “I’ll be here.”

There was no telling how long it would last or could last as a secret, but they had these afternoons, when Bridget would return from Wentworth, drop her plastic prison-issue bag on the chair, and kick off her shoes. Franky would greet her, kissing her eagerly--the eight hours she was away felt like another sentence--but at the end of the day they’d be right back there again, spending another afternoon with the glow of the setting sun emblazoned on the bedroom wall.


End file.
